


With Interest

by Taliya



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Study, Explicit Language, Families of Choice, Family, Gen, Gun Violence, Protectiveness, Repaying Debt, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25580797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliya/pseuds/Taliya
Summary: Kuroba Kaito had never met the second of his father’s students, Sharon Vineyard.  But when the daughter of Sharon, actress Chris Vineyard, encounters Kaito by chance, she sees an opportunity to pay her late mentor back in full… and then some.  Rated for violence and language.
Relationships: Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid & Vermouth, Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid/Nakamori Aoko, Kuroba Touichi & Vermouth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	With Interest

**Author's Note:**

> _Detective Conan_ and _Magic Kaito_ characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Aoyama Gōshō.
> 
> \---
> 
> Warnings: Graphic violence, explicit language

”Ah, I’m sorry!” Quick fingers barely caught the phone that went sailing through the air, and she sighed in relief before handing the device back to its owner. She froze upon glancing up at the man.

“Thanks,” he replied with a small smile as he pocketed the phone. She watched as his eyes took in her flimsy disguise: oversized sunglasses and a white sunhat, most of her recognizable wavy blonde hair aside from a few artful strands tucked away underneath. “No harm done here. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she replied dazedly, automatically backing up to give them both more breathing room after she had collided with him on the sidewalk.

The man grinned and nodded his head at her, and while his eyes flared in recognition, he was courteous enough and mindful enough to not announce her presence. “All right. Well then…” he murmured with a tip of his head and sidestepped her to continue on his way.

“Wait!” she called, spinning after it took her two seconds to realize that he was leaving. He paused and swiveled, cocking his head inquisitively at her. “Are you…?” He looked so alike, so similar, and it made her heart twinge. Same warm eyes, same kind smile, same cheery genuineness that she had missed all these years.

His brow crinkled in a mild frown. “Am I…?” he repeated, politely urging her to complete her thought.

“Are you… Kuroba Touichi’s son?” she breathed, gazing hungrily at his face.

The man’s face smoothed into an achingly familiar smile as he bowed slightly and produced a daffodil from his empty hand, presenting it to her as he straightened. “Kuroba Kaito, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Her eyes widened at the small bit of showmanship, bringing forth a flood of fond memories as she accepted the yellow blossom. She tipped her head in reply, her long blonde tresses twisting in the light breeze as she pulled off her oversized sunglasses and answered, “Chris Vineyard. Your father was once a teacher of… my mother.”

\---

“So how’d you recognize me?” the twenty-seven-year-old asked as the two sat at a small outdoor table of Pâtisserie Ueno. The actress had insisted upon paying for snacks and drinks, and so the pair shared a plate of chocolate croissants. Kaito nursed a cup of café au lait, while she had gone with a cappuccino. “Unless you routinely peruse the entertainment section of the news, no one’s likely to look twice at me—unlike a rather famous actress such as yourself.”

Chris smiled as she set her mug down. “I’ve seen pictures of Kuroba Touichi, had even met him once or twice, and as of late I’ve seen your face all over the entertainment section of newspapers wherever I happen to be. It’s just—you look a lot like him.”

Kaito hummed in fond remembrance of his father. “Kaa-san would often tell me that. Guess the fact that I also perform magic just reinforces the image.” He took a bite of the flaky, buttery pastry. “So what did Oyaji teach your mother?”

The blonde smiled. “Disguising.”

The messy-haired brunet grinned. “Useful skill in the acting world. Did your mother learn alongside Kudou Yukiko?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. My mother even managed to get Yukiko and I in touch before she died,” the actress said, though this was a blatant lie. It had been Yukiko’s son, Kudou Shinichi, who had done that—albeit through some extremely unusual circumstances.

She had never reconnected with her teacher after her life as Sharon was over, too immersed in the politics of the Organization to dare speak to Touichi. There was absolutely no desire on her part to mark him as one of the Organization’s potential targets simply because she knew him. But as his student, he had given her the initial desire to fight her way out of the Organization; his kindness and generosity spurred traitorous thoughts of freeing herself and her younger brother of the lives they both led under the hand of the Organization.

Her older brother Philip Vineyard had, in his early teens, fallen into the wrong crowd, and they had come for him. When they found out he could not pay his debts, they forced a then-also teenaged Sharon Vineyard into their service. She had been given a lot of leeway due to her youth, allowing her fairly free reign of her life as a non-codenamed agent. It was not until they saw her talent in a low-budget film that they began to use her in reconnaissance missions, slowly but surely training her into an assassin.

She had learned the skills of the assassin trade under the tutelage of another codenamed agent, Arrack. The man was an excellent infiltrator, though nowhere near the level of Kuroba Touichi, but the man had been good enough to give her the inspiration and curiosity she needed to seek out a better instructor in the art of disguising—though at the time she had been unaware of the Organization’s plans for her.

It was after they had assigned her to her first mission that she realized her purpose within the Organization, and though she had wanted to fight it, she valued her brother’s life too highly to rebel—too afraid of their harsh methods of retaliation. And so she remained, the docile assassin under the thumb of _Ano Kata_ ’s will. After the emergence of the first Kaitou KID onto the world stage, the blonde had been able to immediately recognize her former instructor based on her familiarity with his mannerisms—she had been tutored by the best and knew the tells, after all.

It was not long after, when she was close to earning her codename to secure her and her brother’s safety within the Organization that she caught wind of the Syndicate’s movements to bring Touichi into their fold that she worried. She began attending heists in an effort to find KID’s more dangerous pursuers, but Touichi had always been a wily one and always managed to slip away.

Relieved by his abilities to escape, she soon halted her attendance and focused once more on keeping herself out of Gin’s crosshairs, and in the process became one of many guinea pigs for Miyano Elena and Atsushi, two scientists who had been working on some sort of prototype anti-aging drug. It was only after she had earned her name of “Vermouth” that she heard that Touichi had died in an apparent accident during one of his shows—as his civilian self.

Considering how detail-oriented her mentor had been with his disguises, the newly codenamed assassin knew there was absolutely no way he would have been careless enough to get himself killed during one of his shows. No, to her it reeked of sabotage. And the persons responsible were more than likely the same Syndicate that had tried to recruit him as Kaitou KID—the same Syndicate that was a rival to the Organization she now belonged to.

Vermouth submerged herself in performing the dirty work of the Organization, her unique skill set quickly gaining her the position of _Ano Kata_ ’s favorite even as she privately mourned the death of Kuroba Touichi. She had made a point to check on his surviving family once in a while, if only to ensure that Chikage and Kaito were recovering.

But when Chikage retreated mentally and physically left behind her eleven-year-old boy to his own devices, Vermouth had unobtrusively stepped in to ensure the boy had the money needed to purchase sustenance, to visit doctors if his health failed. She also kept an eye on the family’s mortgage of their house to ensure Kaito had a home to live in, since Touichi’s widow spent her days globe hopping. And all the while, she continued to kill.

She had initially hated the fact that she killed, but considering that the Organization held the life of her brother hostage, Vermouth had been quick to surrender to the Organization’s demands. Soon enough she grew used to the idea, grew to enjoy the anticipatory rush of endorphins that came with a new mission, and she hated herself.

When Philip—who never gained a codename—died in action on one of his own jobs, Vermouth completely surrendered herself to the Organization and numbly operated more on autopilot than anything else. She even went so far as to fake her own death and restart her life as Chris Vineyard because she had stopped aging from the experimental drug, acting the part of a famous actress while believing this was as far as she was going to get in life—until she met Kudou Shinichi on the streets of New York City and he gave her hope once more.

With the young detective’s help (after he had been shrunken by a variation of the same drug that failed to allow her to age), they had been able to bring down the Organization with the help of several international agencies, and she had slipped away, finally free to live her life. True, she had killed countless people and destroyed multitudes of families and homes, but once she no longer had ties to the Organization, she had continued to act, giving most of her earned wages to various charities that supported the survivors of murder victims as well as keeping a distant eye on Touichi’s boy. It was the least she could offer as a form of meager penance. She would, however, never openly admit how a few of his stunts as the second Kaitou KID had nearly given her a few heart attacks—the Mystery Train fiasco being the first that came to mind.

But now… Now, she had a personality to go with the name and face of her mentor’s son, the young man who carried on Kuroba Touichi’s legacy as both internationally acclaimed magician and internationally wanted thief. She had watched Kaito grow up from the sidelines, grow from a depressed, lost preteen to an energetic, brilliant teenager to a mature, irrepressible man. And though she had no claim in his growth, she could not help but feel proud of Kaito and his accomplishments—he was as close to a child of her own as she would ever get. The experimental drug administered to her had also rendered her unable to bear a child, and so Kaito was the child of her heart, the child she could never have.

Gazing into his bright indigo eyes, she could easily imagine Touichi’s son donning the iconic top hat and monocle of Kaitou KID—had watched him from the crowds with pride and awe. But she had also noticed the presence of the Syndicate, who still had not yet been uncovered, and she privately vowed to bring them down—though not quite in the style of her co-conspirator Kudou Shinichi. No, her idea of a takedown would be swift, brutal, and terminal.

\---

Over the course of the next few months, Chris became more acquainted with the son of her mother’s instructor. Kaito introduced Chris to his wife, Aoko, and their seven-month-old boy, Shouta. Chris owned a high-rise penthouse in Minato, which she could afford as a highly acclaimed actress. That she had willed “Sharon’s” assets to herself also helped in that regard. Though she was by no means related to the Kurobas by blood, the small but close-knit family easily accommodated her into their hectic lifestyle, visiting each other’s homes frequently whenever they were in town. Kaito, as a magician, would leave to tour for months at a time while Aoko, a theft detective in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s Division Three, remained behind to take care of their son. On the days when she happened to be in town and both parents were busy, Chris often took care of little Shouta.

Chris enjoyed her time with the Kurobas whenever she was not busy acting in a film. It was idyllic, this life, and she wished with all her might that this might last forever. But time and experience—particularly with the Organization—had left her cynical and cold, and she knew this would not last forever. Already there were fresh reports in the underworld regarding the snipers that had been making appearances at Kaitou KID’s heists. The blonde knew that despite her wish to never take another life—she had taken too many already—there were still several more she had to take. And these lives were far more important than any she had taken before, for with these lives she would ensure the survival of one Kuroba Kaito for as long as he masqueraded as Kaitou KID.

The actress had initially wondered if Aoko knew that her husband was the man that she chased as a policewoman, but within their gazes at each other she found her answer. The young woman knew, and therefore understood the risks her husband took each night he donned the cape, top hat, and monocle. On the nights of KID’s heists, Chris would always excuse herself early so that she did not have to watch them part; the first and only time she had witnessed Kaito leave to make his preparations, she had seen the fear and the love in their eyes. It only strengthened her determination to eliminate the Syndicate.

And so she began hunting, beginning with KID’s heists. Each time the phantom thief scheduled a show she would be perched on the highest skyscraper in the vicinity, clad in the black leather outfit that formed base of her Organization assassin’s “uniform.” Stashed in her outfit were an assortment of handguns and loaded cartridges, along with the associated silencers.

It frustrated her to discover that the Syndicate members did not show up to every heist, and it only delayed her plans of revenge on Touichi’s behalf. The fourth heist she had attended with the intent of finding her enemies was when she finally spotted them. Her lips curled in hatred and disgust as she counted three on the rooftop. _It’s only the three of them,_ she noted after a thorough scan of the neighboring rooftops with her night vision-capable binoculars. _Dispose of two and torture the third for information,_ she decided as she exited her watchtower to make her way to the building the merry band of idiots had decided to use. She eased her way onto the rooftop, and two silenced shots later two men were down before the third had an inkling of what had happened to his compatriots. She was upon him before he had a chance to announce his shock.

Vermouth roughly grabbed him by the neck, gloved fingers digging into soft flesh. The drug had, in addition to exponentially fast healing, granted her strength, speed, and resilience that bordered on superhuman, and so she was able to easily keep the man in line despite his apparent physical advantage. The gauntlets she wore kept the man from clawing her forearm and hand to shreds in his desperation. “Where is your base?” she demanded dispassionately.

The handlebar mustached-man had enough presence of mind to spit in her face. “Like I’d tell you, _bitch_ ,” he grunted.

Ignoring the saliva that slowly slid down her cheek, Vermouth pulled the trigger and released a bullet into the man’s thigh. He choked a scream through her stranglehold. “I could do this all night,” she remarked, voice calm as though idly commenting on the weather. “I have many more bullets to spare, and I’m in no hurry.” She suddenly smiled, and it was not a nice smile. “Now, you can either be a bad boy—” she punctuated this option by aiming her silenced handgun directly at the juncture of his legs “—and I would have to torture the information out of you, or you could be a good boy and give me what I want to know. Right now. I might even be nice and allow you to live.”

Though the man could not see exactly _what_ she was pointing at, the not-entirely gentle nudge of cold metal in the family jewels was clue enough. A squeak squeezed past his throttled throat as he gazed at her with wild, bulging eyes. He caved rather quickly after that, divulging the location of the Syndicate’s headquarters, along with how many members there were, what their roles were, and where they could ordinarily be found.

Vermouth lowered him down enough to lay a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, you bastard,” she cooed sweetly right before she blew a hole through his temples. She released the vise-like grip on his neck, and he keeled over, dead. Holstering the gun, the blonde turned to gaze at the urban jungle of downtown Tokyo as she wiped her face clean of the dead man’s spit. A cheer from far below prompted her to take a peek, and she smiled slightly at the sight of that distinctive white triangle escaping from the confines of the museum where the heist had been staged.

_I’ll protect you, child of my heart._

\---

With her newfound information and her ability to disguise, Vermouth easily infiltrated the Syndicate. And even then, she bided her time. There was no use slaughtering them now, not when there were members out on assignments in different countries. Instead, she waited for several months, keeping a covert eye on KID heists, until their boss held their annual meeting with everyone gathered— _Fucking moron,_ she smirked—to make her move. Her Organization’s _Ano Kata_ , ever the paranoid one, had never _once_ convened everyone in a single time and place, which was both for their own safety as well as the safety of those working undercover.

In the meantime, she continued to act and visit the Kurobas during the day while dressing up as Nightshade, one of the female codenamed agents, whenever else she had time to gather more intelligence. Vermouth had taken out the actual agent named Nightshade after pretending to be a thirty-something-year-old salary man trying to pick her up at a bar. He had spent the evening plying the other assassin with drinks and drugs, and once Nightshade had been gone enough, the pair of them had stumbled out into an alley where Vermouth had slit her throat.

As the time to enact her plan drew near, the blonde felt anticipation thrum in her veins. While she knew that Kuroba Touichi had always valued life, she wondered if he would allow this particular act of hers to slide. She was, after all, doing this to protect his son—his legacy in more than the obvious one. Gazing out of her bedroom window, she watched the streams of lights on the streets and highways, the ant-sized people on the sidewalks below.

Two days from now it would be over. She would either emerge victorious or dead, since it was one against seventeen named agents and their boss. She liked her odds. She blotted her damp hair with a standard-sized towel as she strode about her abode clad in nothing but an oversized bath towel, her thoughts on the operation she alone would be performing. The blonde changed into a slinky black slip before settling under the duvet, though she did not slide fully under the blankets to sleep just yet. Instead, she leaned against the headboard cushioned by her pillows, and stared at her hands. 

They were normal hands, appearance-wise, with slender, graceful fingers and palms and knuckles unmarred by calluses. The fingernails were neatly trimmed and painted a lush crimson. All in all, they looked like regular hands that belonged to a regular citizen—

—and not the hands of one of the most experienced assassins in the underworld. Vermouth had always taken great pains to keep the calluses of her profession from forming on her hands, as they were the most visible part of her body in any disguise, and she took no chances with any random passersby’s potential ability to identify the roughened skin patterns developed from hours upon hours spent handling firearms of any and all types. 

She abruptly slid out of the bed deciding that if she was not to sleep yet, then she would do something productive. The blonde stepped into her foyer, opening up the hidden panel at the back of her coat closet. Inside was a veritable treasure trove of firearms, from snub-nosed Cobras to rapid-fire Uzis to point-precision PSG1s, along with boxes upon boxes of associated ammunition and extra magazines. Selecting two of the Uzis, she grabbed the satchel that hung with all of the firearms and closed both the panel and the closet. These two submachine guns had not had a servicing in a while.

Setting the items on a granite countertop in her kitchen by the stove, Vermouth unpacked the satchel’s contents: cleaning solvent, lubricant, various brushes, swabs, and cleaning cloths. A flick of the exhaust fan gave her the ventilation she liked whenever she cleaned her weapons, and with the swift ease of experience she disassembled both of the Uzis. Cleaning was meditative for her, as her hands worked with little required input from her brain. It left Vermouth with time to plan. 

Nightshade had kindly—stupidly—saved a lot of information regarding the Syndicate on her personal computer that she had been able to hack easily. With the location of the meeting place known, it had been child’s play to obtain the blueprints to the building. Add on that she knew exactly how many people were attending, and she had a crude but fairly accurate idea of the situation she would be walking into. The unknowns were how good these people were, but Vermouth had not survived being in the Organization because she pretty.

No, she knew there was a firefight coming, and damned if she was not going to go into it prepared—even if the other participants were unaware of that fact.

\---

The fiery bite of a bullet whizzing by her cheek stung, but frankly, Vermouth had more things to worry about than a bullet graze—though she hoped that there was to damage done to the straps holding the gas mask to the crown of her head. She surged up a set of stairs, acutely aware that her pursuers were gaining on her.

Time to flip the tables.

With the hand not occupied by the PK380, Vermouth vaulted herself over the handrail and landed on the narrow landing between flights and happily, behind her surprised opponents. Two quick squeezes, and two more bodies collapsed to the floor.

Two left, and one was the Syndicate’s _Ano Kata_. The last one besides the boss would be the man’s most loyal—and most dangerous—member, Spider. Vermouth had heard enough about the man through her underworld contacts to be wary of the man. An illusionist of similar caliber to Touichi, Spider traveled the world performing on the stage under the assumed name Gunter von Goldberg II. There was precious little information on his origins but more than a few tales regarding his mastery of immersive hypnotism—it was what made him such a dangerous assassin.

The blonde frisked the two newest corpses for useful items, coming away with the firearms that had recently been aimed at her, along with spare, fully loaded magazines. “Thank you!” she sang as she pocketed the items and slunk off, on the hunt once more. She pressed herself against a corner, steadying her breaths to see if she could hear anything besides the war drum of her heart in her ears. A small compact mirror in the palm of her hand allowed her to peer into the hallway beyond. It was empty, but considering what she had heard about Spider, it would more than behoove her to proceed with utmost caution. 

A haunting chuckle echoed down the hall. “Lost, _Wermut_?”

An answering smirk curved her lips as she tucked the mirror away. “You certainly live up to your apparent German roots, _Spinne_.”

The hallway faded away to a dirty, common back alley, and Vermouth froze as the wail of sirens approached her location. She stiffened even more as the police cars screeched to a stop, focusing their head beams on her. “What do you think of my illusion so far?” came Spider’s voice as officers exited their vehicles and placed her within their crosshairs. “What do you think of your worst fears come to life?”

“I think,” she snarled gutturally, “that your illusion is a piece of _shit_!” As she spoke, she fired the PK380 at her leg, winging herself in the thigh. The sharp flare of pain shattered the illusion, and suddenly she was back in the hallway. “Come out and face me, you worthless coward, or have your genitals receded so far up you have proper ovaries and a vagina?” She snickered. “Not that it would be a bad thing. Women are the superior sex, after all.”

There was silence for a while before Spider answered, “A worthy opponent, _finally_. And one who will fight back, unlike that pathetic little thief.”

Vermouth’s eyes narrowed at the reference to KID. “Speaking of ‘that pathetic little thief’,” she said with a savage edge to her voice as she pulled the gas mask over her nose and mouth, “you could stand to learn a few tricks from him yourself, you fucker.” A blind shot from around the corner, and the flashbang lit the place up even as the sleeping gas smoked out the hall. The blonde slid around the corner, creeping silently to keep from broadcasting her location as she eased herself as close to the floor as possible.

The sleep gas haze made seeing past a meter difficult, but Vermouth grinned as she spotted a pair of feet near the wall before her. Spider was coughing and leaning heavily on the wall as he covered his nose and mouth with an arm. She was grudgingly impressed that he was still standing, to be honest.

She fired a round from her position near the ground and followed up by sweeping his feet out from beneath him. Spider landed hard on his back, and after ripping off his three-eyed mask, she unceremoniously fired one, two, three shots point blank at him: chest, chin, and forehead; one to the heart and two to the brain. “Gute nacht, Spinne,” she purred as she stood, and kicked him in the ribs for her own satisfaction.

 _Last but not least…_ she thought with a pleased hum. _Now, where would the little rat hide?_

She crept through the parts of the building that she had not yet covered, poking her gun into each room she encountered. At length, she reached a darkened conference room that whimpered. A grin curled her lips and she whispered, “Bingo.”

“Please,” whined an aging man curled into a corner of the room, “Please don’t shoot me.”

Vermouth wondered how she looked, armed with multiple guns and backlit by the lights of the hallway. She tugged the gas mask off her face, secure in the knowledge that the sleeping gas had not traveled this far through the air conditioning system yet. “And why shouldn’t I?” she asked as she tossed the mask on the table. She would pick it back up once she left this room—it would be a waste to make it this far only to pass out from her own sleeping gas as she escaped.

The weaselly man stuttered over his answer at the hope that she would not kill him. Vermouth smirked. _Let him hope._

“I—I can pay you,” he began. “I’ll pay wha-whatever you want. Just—just don’t kill me! I don’t want to die!”

“A lot of people don’t want to die,” the blonde said blandly, taking slow steps closer to him and thinking of the countless victims the Miyano family had murdered—or unmurdered—in the name of science.

He gulped. “But I—I know where to find immortality!” He hurried on when her only reply was the narrowing of her eyes. “I’ve been searching for it for years, and I’m so close now—!”

The curve of her lips flattened. “So you say. Tell me, do you think immortality is worth it? Is this search for immortality worth killing others for?” Her expression twisted into a sneer. “Because I can tell you immortality is _not worth it._ ” Vermouth waited for that to sink into his kumquat of a brain as she knelt beside him, pressing the nose of the PK380 firmly between his brows. “It’s rather miserable, actually, a fucking pain in the ass. You get injured but heal up just fast enough that you can’t be admitted to a hospital. You don’t age, so you have to figure out ways to seemingly kill yourself while you watch those you know and care about die around you. You end up stuck in a limbo where you are both part of the world and an observer of it because time progresses without you. It’s enough to drive anyone insane. And you want that?” she spat.

“I should let you have it, so that you can know what it’s like to forever be the odd man out. I should let you have it, so that you can suffer for the rest of your endless existence.” She took a moment to savor the terrified gaze focused solely on her as her finger tightened on the trigger. “But I won’t, because I do not want to suffer _your_ existence for the rest of _my_ damned eternity.”

As the bullet found a new home in the brain of the Syndicate’s boss, the blonde heaved a shaky sigh and murmured softly, “For you, Touichi. Your son’s finally safe.”

\---

The dummy drifted out into the night sky, a trail of flashing lights following in its wake. A white-clad phantom thief approached the parapet, fingering the evening’s prize as he raised it up to the full moon’s light. The Eye of Sasan was a hazy green demantoid garnet that fit within Kaitou KID’s palm. A gift from Ardashir I, the King of Kings of Iran and the Emperor of the Sasanian Empire, to his beautiful wife, Lady Myroud, the Eye was a gorgeous oval-cut stone set in intricate gold filigree, the centerpiece of an ornate statement necklace. Under the glow of the full moon, it shone a murky brown—indicating that something red muddied the gem’s viridian hue.

She caught the pleased grin on KID’s lips and asked with curiosity, “Is that what you’ve been looking for, Kaitou-san?” as she emerged from the shadows of an HVAC unit.

The phantom thief leapt away from her with feline agility, the jewelry vanishing with a twist of his hand. He landed a good two meters away, the iconic card gun aimed squarely at her. “And who might you be?” he asked with a hint of wary flirtatiousness in his voice.

“Someone dangerous to some, but not to others,” the blonde replied, curious to see how he would respond to her intentional vagueness. She knew that he knew her, though she was sure he did not know that she knew him as he was now. It was with amusement that she watched him eye her, wondering if he connected her to the Syndicate she had so recently wiped out. Her black outfit certainly was not doing her any favors.

“Ah, but the term ‘dangerous’ is merely one way to describe curiosity—” KID sent her a cunning grin that she had never witnessed on Kuroba Kaito’s face as he lowered the card gun, “—and I am nothing if not curious.”

She flashed him an indulgent smile. “Does that mean you are dangerous as well?”

“Me?” KID asked in mock astonishment as he vanished the card gun and gestured to himself, “I’m as harmless as they come!”

An amused snort escaped her. “Somehow, I doubt that,” she remarked flatly, “seeing as you’ve been the target of select assassins and hitmen for a while now.”

The magician made overly grandiose twirls of his hand as he sighed dramatically. “I’m only dangerous because I haven’t died yet.”

“Well you know the saying, Kaitou-san, ‘curiosity killed the cat’ and all,” she deadpanned.

KID lifted a hand into a curled cat’s paw and purred, “ _Nyaa._ ”

Vermouth laughed, pressing her face into a palm, waving her other hand at him in a shooing motion. “Go and live another day, Kaitou Kitty, or another several decades. Your parasites have been eradicated.”

“Did you just—” the phantom thief began with some incredulity, squinting at her, “—call me a _mangy cat_?”

Vermouth studied this new Kaitou KID through her fingers, took in the familiar profile beneath the brim of his top hat and the cut of his suit, and something inside her twisted with regret and bled with pride. “He’d be proud of you, if he was still alive,” she murmured as she dropped her hand away from her face. “It’s a shame they got to him before he was able to see you come into your own.”

KID stared at her uncertainly, and his expression tensed with the beginnings of suspicion. “Who are you?” he asked, any trace of his previous joviality erased entirely.

She sighed, the sound pulled through the filter of her entire aged, worn body, and answered, “I’m the one who ensured that you will never be sniped at again.” When that failed to elicit a verbal response from the thief, she continued. “Don’t worry, Kaito-san—” the change in address made KID jump, though she had checked the rooftop thoroughly for any bugs prior to his appearance, “—I’m not a danger to you or your family.” Vermouth smiled, a meek shadow of her usual, and strode for the parapet. She hopped lightly onto it, and the wind whipped her blonde curls into an undulating flag of gold behind her as she turned to face the speechless thief.

“I understand if you don’t want me in your life anymore, so consider this a debt to your father paid in full and with interest,” she said, and tilted backwards into a freefall. She allowed herself a second’s worth of staring up at the sky before she twisted and deployed her parachute. She guided her flight towards a nearby park and landed in the middle of an empty soccer field. A glance up in the sky towards the heist location revealed that KID had also taken flight, his path going in a different direction from where she was.

“Goodbye, Kuroba-kun,” she whispered, and as she rolled the parachute into a haphazard ball and began the long walk back to her motorcycle, she could not help but think to herself, _You coward._

\---

The doorbell rang, startling Chris from her line memorization. She had not been expecting anyone to visit today; her manager had secured her several days off from interviews, and all of her “friends” were off shooting and recording in various locations and studios. She pressed the intercom button, asking, “Hello?”

 _“Hey, Chris-san!”_ The actress froze. That was… _Kaito_ …? _“Are you busy?”_

She blinked several times, flustered with his unexpected appearance. “Ah, I—I—no, I’m not busy, Kaito-san! Please come up!” She buzzed them through and disconnected, becoming a flurry of motion as she cleaned up a few items in her apartment. Her used wineglass went into the sink, the hair towel she had dropped on the floor last night went into the laundry hamper, the pile of movie scripts tidied on her coffee table.

A knock on her door heralded Kaito’s arrival, and she opened the door to find not only Kaito, but Aoko and two-year-old Shouta as well. She allowed them inside, and they shuffled into the house slippers they usually wore whenever they visited. She made tea for the adults and poured juice for the little one, and once they were seated and served, she asked why they had decided to visit.

“Are we not allowed to?” Kaito responded with a blink of incomprehension. “I didn’t realize we needed a reason to visit.”

“Ah, it’s not that,” the blond said, gaze skittering away from the couple in discomfort. “I just wasn’t expecting you to show up.”

There was understanding in both Aoko’s and Kaito’s eyes when she glanced back up. “You’ve helped us so much in the time that we’ve known you, Chris-san. It would be such a shame if you just up and disappeared on us, no?”

She tentatively asked, “You know? Both of you?”

Aoko frowned minutely. “While I can’t say I’m happy with how you went about it,” she said, and the blonde barely suppressed a wince, “the fact that they endangered others besides KID meant they needed to be taken down one way or the other.”

“We’re grateful though,” Kaito tagged on. “Not just for us, but for of everyone else who was affected by them. So, thank you. On behalf of the victims and their survivors, on behalf of us, and on behalf of my father—” here, Chris’ breath caught in her chest, “— _thank you_ for protecting all of us.” The actress jerked in surprise as Shouta toddled into her legs and wrapped her calves in a warm hug. “Ah, and on behalf of the little one there too,” Kaito added with a grin.

Chris Vineyard choked out something that was a combination of laughter and sob, but the relief—the redemption—she felt when she gazed upon that wide, innocent smile made all of her sacrifices worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This idea came about way back when I had been brainstorming different possible people for the prank in _TMPD Antics_ (Ch. 28-33). My brain went off on a tangent with this particular situation: what if Vermouth, who, years after the downfall of the Black Organization had known that Kuroba Touichi had been the original Kaitou KID and that his son was the new KID, came across Kaito, who had never met her? What if the Black Organization had been a rival to the Syndicate Snake had been a part of, and to pay Touichi back, she took on the job of eliminating KID’s snipers to protect her mentor’s son? I am not happy with how Kaito and Aoko seemed to just accept that Vermouth killed a bunch of people, but if they turned her in they would be hypocrites for not turning in KID, and—yeah. Daffodils in hanakotoba indicate respect, Shouta means “soaring” or “big.” I chose “Nightshade” as a codename since in the OVA series there was a female agent named “Rose”, so—dangerous flowers. Wermut, Spinne, and gute nacht are the German words for Vermouth, Spider, and good night, respectively. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> \---
> 
> Completed: 28.07.2020


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